


The hiss of scales and sand.

by TBCat



Category: Boruto: Naruto Next Generations, Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Dreams, M/M, Mild Gore, Mitshinki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-10
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-07-10 11:29:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15948446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TBCat/pseuds/TBCat
Summary: It is commonly accepted that dreams are the body’s way of integrating the separate experiences of soulmates together.





	The hiss of scales and sand.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a dream-sharing Soulmate!AU for Mitshinki which has quickly became my new OTP. 
> 
> Also, I am completely ignoring the existence of chakra aliens, and therefore the whole Momoshiki drama didn't happen during the chunin arc. Instead, it was a shounen style drama about Boruto's cheating and the progression of technology in the ninja world. 
> 
> Also, I am not giving an explanation for all the character-ectomies that happen in Boruto to the Naruto generation. Instead, I am just playing characters how I want as they come up, and leaving you clever readers to imagine the best explanation.

_ It is commonly accepted that dreams are the body’s way of integrating the separate experiences of soulmates together. _

* * *

 

 

Shinki doesn’t remember his mother. He only remembers his father’s face and death. A week later the dreams started. 

The first dream is dominated with a rattling hiss that mocks the shift of Shinki’s own iron blanket. Shinki looked into the sun of his desert dreamscape; his chakra couldn’t find the iron particles in the ground that haunted him when awake. Shinki smiles, and sits down to build a crude and lonely sandcastle. The pebbled sand feels like a hundred scavenged desert beetles after Shinki crunches them between his teeth. He wakes with a smile.

The next dream he remembers, the rattling sound is back. The scrape falls up and down in pitch as opposed to the constant whirl of iron that surrounds and cloisters Shinki during his waking hours. To the side of a clear dune of sand is a surviving limestone slab. A Saw-scale sits upon the stone slab, sliding in a mesmerizing scrape of scales. Shinki remembers his father’s cold, blank eyes after the snake bite, and wakes screaming. 

The iron responds violently and destructively in the waking world.

 

Mitsuki dreams frequently as a child. Every dream is bright and over saturated just like the lights of his parent’s lab, but also warmer and diffuse, somehow. No matter what he does in his dream, he always forgets after he wakes up. 

Then his parent needs Mitsuki’s help, and he is so happy. He loves Oro-a, and though he doesn’t remember days he knows that his life must have been a series of days just growing in this sterile environment. 

Oro-a reminds Mitsuki of his childhood, and brings Mitsuki into the pale moonlight. They explore the dim, phosphorescent-lit cave together, and then Mitsuki lights the air with pure natural chakra. 

Mitsuki remembers dreaming. 

Mitsuki remembers dreams of golden light, and warmth. Mitsuki remembers eating cooked foods instead of nutrition rations, and knows they must be his soulmate’s experiences rather than his own. Mitsuki remembers the Sun, and he knows that that is his goal.

 

In the next dream the desert is silent and the sun is centered high in the sky. During the day, Shinki would use the protection of the desert heat to scavenge for food without hurting any villagers. In his dreams, he doesn’t have an umbrella of iron shading his skin, or cushioning his steps. In Shinki’s dream, his skin soaks up the sunlight hungrily, as if his insides are cold and the light itself is food. 

Shinki wonders if he is dreaming of being a plant, but he knows that even the great sky-cacti can be burned by the desert sun. 

“I am proud of you,” the voice speaks from behind him. 

Shinki jumps and spin in a panic, curling up his arms offensively. His ever present, physical shadow doesn’t respond, and Shinki remembers that this is a dream. Then he sees the snake. 

Shinki can still remember his father’s face, but the fear and grief has deadened to a bruised ache. 

The snake waves its head side to side and tastes the air with a gummy smile. “I am proud of you, son,” the snake says, “You are my greatest creation.” 

Shinki’s cheeks feel wet. 

 

Mitsuki loves Konoha as much as it confuses him. Hokage Naruto featured in many of Oro-a’s and Suigetsu’s bedtime stories about Sasuke, yet the Uzumaki family is very different in real life. Konoha is a village of rambunctious freedom despite being ruled by a dictator. The Hokage is exhausted despite his reputation as the indefatigable, most unpredictable ninja ever. 

Most importantly, though, both Naruto and Boruto are so bright. They shine with energy and charisma, drawing others into their orbit like planets around a star. 

Mitsuki hopefully calls Boruto his sun, and tries to shine as brightly as the moon in turn. However, whatever smarts Boruto received from his mother are sheathed in the reckless emotionalism of his father. Mitsuki stares at Boruto with wide eyes every day. His eyes don’t burn like they do when he stares at the real sun. They just crinkle in laughter; like when Mitsuki sits around the barbecue fire with the other boys in Shino-sensei’s class.

Mitsuki still dreams of the sun. He dreams of bright yellow light shining on red lines. He dreams of silvery-blue reflections, and the sound of smoothly drawn iron. 

Boruto likes to use steel kunai. 

Mitsuki dreams of tanned leather and shed snake skins and his father’s warm hug. Their hair must be put up in the dream, because it doesn’t fall to shelter Mitsuki like he remembers from before he left Oto. Mitsuki runs his hands along the rough red cloth of Oro-a’s cloak and wonders what happened to their typical silk clothing. 

 

Shinki presses the grains of heavy, cool iron tighter against his body. He never has iron in his dreams, but he used to never feel another person’s touch in the waking world. Now, whenever he wants he can reach out his hand and feel the rough cloth and sand soaked figure of Gaara-sama, the Kazekage, his new father. The iron swirls in inertia driven eddies and waves and crashes against sand with a gentle crash. Gaara stays standing next to Shinki each time, and they are never touched by a single particle of the outside world.

In his dreams, the snake waits on the rock. There is no iron and there is no sand. Shinki cannot find his father’s still body, and Gaara is absent from the empty desert. The distant mountains look red against the light; like the color that signifies the Kazekage’s office. The sky's the pale empty blue of the desert sky. 

The snake hisses for attention and shifts its body in a rasp of scales. Shinki watches the snake and reminds himself that this is just a dream, not the real world, a dream. 

The rock is home to a small cactus bud, shining bright green with life. The snake stands high and opens a mouth wide with closed fangs. “I’m so happy for you, my son. I always, just want you to be happy,” the snake says. 

Shinki falls into the pale blue sky, the desert shrinking beneath his feet as a sliver of yellow, and crashes against the unrolled sheet of his futon. 

Iron swirls aggressively through the room, wrapping Shinki in desperate chains and staking his body to the walls, floor, ceiling. Shinki breathes out, and the iron collapses into harmless particles. He stands to join Father and Uncle Kankuro for breakfast, and the iron meekly dogs Shinki’s heels as he walks. 

 

Mitsuki is excited for the Chunin exams. He stays awake for a week without interruption, hissing through the snakes to his father and chasing the light of the moon across the city. This will be Mitsuki’s last chance to truly be a child, but more importantly Mitsuki can feel his instincts curling beneath his skin in anticipation like a snake before they shed their skin. 

Mitsuki dreams of literally molting his skin the night before the exams. He is curled under the shadow of a rock, and sparse desert stretches endlessly in every direction he extends his senses. Mitsuki feels that he should be traveling, following the shine of reflected sunlight in the distance, but the sound of rasping scales above his head stop him. 

The head of a desert saw-scale peeks out from the top of the rock that shades Mitsuki. Mitsuki has never dreamed of his parent as an actual snake before. Mitsuki has never dreamed of his parent before. 

Oro-a grins a harmless snake smile and hisses, “Wait. All good prey comes.”

“To the snake in wait,” Mitsuki finishes. A piece of his molting skin flakes to the ground. 

 

Shinki watches the passing sand shift to rock shift to grass and slowly growing trees outside the window of the speeding train. His family fills the car, but Shinki can’t move his awareness off the iron that fills the air. His cloak presses against Shinki like a vice, and the train’s component pieces rattle against Shinki’s awareness. The world outside the train is marked by lines of development like a half drawn map that is constantly being erased and redrawn. 

Shinki doesn’t- can’t care. The Chunin exams are his chance to honor Father. Shinki has to show the modern shinobi world that Suna has grow from a struggling desert civilization to a modern world power. He is the heir apparent. 

Araya paces the train anxiously, frequently checking his stowed luggage and polishing the front of his mask. He has a puppet stashed both here and in the luggage cabin. Shinki thinks, based on the timing of his steps, that Araya is sitting with them in person. It might still be his puppet, though. Kankuro distracts Araya with an unfinished puppet joint to fiddle. 

Yodo sits across from Shinki. She is perched upon her seat with legs up on the train bench like a magazine model. Her hand rests against her thigh, and Shinki knows from experience that she can reach a set of shuriken or several different kunai from that position alone. Her earbuds faintly play the sounds of some urban beat that Yodo has been enjoying lately; lyric-less noise that features the use of nontraditional instrumentation. Her hair is precisely arranged and put up in a strict bun. She neatened her side-shave before they left Suna. 

 

The train dissolves into so many iron particles on the forest floor. Shinki is asleep. He keeps his arms loose at his side and breathes against the armored vest that he still wears. Shinki’s iron cloak lies unresponsive among the forest grass. 

The grass rustles, shifts, scrapes. The saw scale curls around Shinki’s booted feet. Shinki feels the flick of its tongue as it tastes the air. It slides forward without a sound and circles to stand before Shinki. Then it stands.

The saw scale stands on a long black-purple body and raises a hooded head to look Shinki eye-to-eye. Now a cobra, the snake laughs at Shinki’s still gaze and kisses the freshly dried paint that lines his face.

“My child waits,” they hiss.

 

Konoha is uproarious. The village-city is always a chaotic jumble, but the upcoming examinations have driven Konoha into a frenzy. The southern housing developments, otherwise known as the slums, have been hastily cleared of inhabitants. Now, they provide a maze of concrete squares several stories tall. The market district has begun selling caricatures of foreign goods in mass amounts. Cold ramen originating from Suna, pickled eel from Kiri, and new varieties of spicy northern barbecue endemic to Kusa are all proudly displayed in the restaurant district. Public televisions broadcast special features on the culture, fashion, and shinobi techniques of foreign villages. Multiple family homes have been converted into bed-and-breakfasts for incoming tourists, and all the established inns and hotels are pre-booked with expected occupants. 

Mitsuki enjoys hopping across the rooftops and watching the shuffle of the crowds of civilians below. Occasionally, Boruto or Sarada like to take a leap at half-speed and laugh over the excited chattering of the crowds below. Mitsuki follows swifter than a shadow, and listens to the curious sounds of wonder that fill a modern shinobi village. 

Orochimaru's lab is always quiet; noise and gawking tend to bother the many 'sensitive' inhabitants of the Sound Village. 

At nights the civilians sleep, and the only shinobi awake flit silently through the air on their own missions. Mitsuki likes the quiet. He likes the way the electric lights shining through windows and reflecting off metal mimic the bright pattern of stars that blankets the sky away from civilization. He will curl up in a chair next to his window and watch the lights. His snakes will curl across his body in silent reassurance, and tickle his fingers with gentle tastes. When they tire they sleep wherever they feel safe from being squished. At that point, Mitsuki curls across wherever he feels most comfortable at that moment, purposely slows his breathing, and lets his mind slither towards the smooth, dry hold of sleep. 

Mitsuki thinks that he should be concerned for Boruto. Shinki has been pulled in by Boruto as if Boruto's magnetic personality is physical and Shinki is truly made of the iron particles Shinki controls. Realistically, Boruto may not be able to match Shinki in standard combat. Mitsuki is coldly aware of his teammates’ strength. Sarada maintains an instinctive understanding of analysis and strategy. She is incredibly skillful in combat, and she furthermore has techniques powerful enough to match difficult opponents. Mitsuki has an innate understanding of subterfuge and manipulation. Oro-a never even considered allowing Mitsuki his independence until Mitsuki was strong and skilled enough to defend himself. Boruto maintains an incredible ability to connect to people as well as a natural ability to improvise battle tactics. Furthermore, he quickly learns an opponent's abilities, limits, and weaknesses. Boruto maintains a wide range of impressive and powerful techniques. However, Shinki is clearly analytical, focused, and equally skilled in powerful combat techniques. A battle between Shinki and one of Mitsuki's teammates would be difficult to predict; especially when Shinki seems driven by duty to compare himself to Naruto's son. 

Mitsuki muses on different possibilities of the upcoming battles with his snakes. They ignore Mitsuki's mutterings and instead push dry scales against skin to slide along Mitsuki's arms. When he falls asleep, Mitsuki dreams of filling dark clouds with lightning as they press physical weight down upon his body. Mitsuki dreams of feeling flushed with energy and excitement as he flies through brightly lit skies to twirl between rushing storms. He caresses an iron spike frozen impossibly in the air, and admires the beautifully honed point that presses against his shirt. 

They pass, all three of them, to the final round of the Chunin Exams.

 

Shinki feels relieved that he is meeting his goals. Soon, he will face the powerful Konoha Team 7, and show the Elemental Nations that the next generation of Suna is equal in strength to the Hokage’s child and his illustrious teammates. Boruto appears to be an unrefined copy of his father. Shinki is not impressed by Boruto's initial impression, but Shinki is also sure that Boruto's strength must be more than has been revealed. Sarada is the daughter of the so-called ‘Shadow Hokage’ and the legendary Slug Mistress. Sarada's own prowess is obvious and undeniable. Boruto's third teammate, Mitsuki,is unknown. However, he must balance his powerful teammates. Furthermore, Mitsuki holds himself with the dangerous self-assurance of a desert snake. Mitsuki feels like the dangerous potential of refined metal to Shinki's instincts. 

That night, Shinki sits with his teammates as they check weapon edges and clean puppet joints. As the last of the daylight fades from view outside of their window, the three quietly clean up their supplies and head towards bed. 

Shinki dreams of standing in the center of a whirlwind of iron. The fine particles freeze and float in the air before the burst in an electrified flash. The long sinuous body of a dragon curls through the air majestically and dives wide-mouthed towards Shinki. Its body cuts through the falling iron particles with less resistance than water. Shinki shifts his weight, pivots, and swings a hastily formed iron fist at the dragons gaping maw in a carefully aimed punch. The creature flips through the air to slam into sandy desert scrubland. The surrounding iron jumps to attention and flies towards the prone dragon. It spirals into a careful, self directed point. The strike hits the ground above the dragon's arm with a sharp thud. Snakes slide out from under the dragon's warily still form and hiss in synchronization.

“I give to you,” they say. Even in defeat and in his dreams, the snakes sound smug to Shinki.

 

Mitsuki thinks that Shinki has unfair expectations. They stand across each other on the bare, sandy field of the chunin exams, fighting non-lethally for the spectating citizens and nobles. Yet, Shinki seems to hold hopes of facing a competitor that will allow him to showcase the power of a future Kazekage. Oro-a was at least rational when speaking to Mitsuki before the exams; Mitsuki could not yet reveal his sage powers. It would be unwise for any competitor, and it would be unwise for Mitsuki in particular. Mitsuki gives a close-lipped smile to Shinki. The other ninja remains stoic. Mitsuki can see the slight shifting of iron particles as Shinki disperses momentum.

The stadium is hectic, but the loud cheers and heckles don’t matter. Mitsuki keeps focused on the arena and his opponent. The match begins. Mitsuki sends an wind jutsu blasting towards Shinki and notes his reaction speed. Mitsuki doesn’t like to waste time on taunts or conversation like either his Boruto or Oro-a. Instead, he dashes forward and dodges left. Mitsuki has a clear angle toward Shinki, but Mitsuki can’t yet move faster than Shinki’s cloak might react. The iron sand shifts the direction it gently swirls across Shinki’s shoulders. Mitsuki leaps and spins over the blast that would have bodily grabbed him. His inertia is jolted to a halt as Mitsuki’s arm is captured in a grip of iron particles. 

Mitsuki watches the play of muscles pulling in Shinki’s face as he speaks. Shinki doesn’t have Mitsuki, but it is important to understand an opponent’s predictive tells. Snakes burst from Mitsuki’s sleeve with a disgruntled chorus of hisses, and Mitsuki finds enough resistance to leap over Shinki towards a clear patch of ground. The iron sand rolls back to condense into Shinki’s cloak once more with a low shriek of grating metal. 

“Interesting magic trick,” Shinki says. His face seems expressionless, but Mitsuki smiles at the barely visible tensed jaw muscle. “What next, a pigeon?” 

“Only snakes, I am afraid,” Mitsuki keeps his voice genial. He doesn’t want to be transparent, and it would be useful to be able to conjure a meal at any moment. Mitsuki lets the handful of pure iron drip from his loose grip. “You have an unusual jutsu as well. How do you manipulate the iron sand, anyway?” Mitsuki asks, because so much can be learned by simply asking. 

For instance, Shinki actually answers Mitsuki, “My father personally taught me this jutsu. Although you couldn’t possibly understand.”

Mitsuki turns his lips downward involuntarily, and ignores the memory of Suigetsu laughing at his ‘pout’. He hates being told no, but Mitsuki can respect an opponent that stays focused. “I see,” Mitsuki responds, “Well, I don’t really care either way.” Now Mitsuki knows that Shinki relies on his own overwhelming power, and disregards the importance of knowing his opponent. 

Mitsuki strikes, and wind scythes through the air in a deadly volley towards Shinki. Mitsuki has no doubt that Shinki’s iron will absorb the attack, and so Mitsuki begins moving immediately. The iron sand crashes down in a predictable, towering dark wave towards Mitsuki, and he leaps backwards. His jumps are small, only giving enough space to prevent being caught, and Mitsuki attempts to thread the iron sand back in towards the center of the arena. Instead, he is herded up a wall; Mitsuki slithers up the arena walls and leaps into the air as the sand follows. He can’t brace himself or change direction in the air, but the chakra-guided iron sand has no such limitations. Mitsuki is drowned in a rough, granular embrace. 

Old, shed snake skins burst out of the scraping pressure of the floating iron particles. Mitsuki wishes that Shinki might have indulged his snake clone for a while longer; Mitsuki always appreciates a more nuanced understanding of how Shinki manipulates his unique jutsu. Mitsuki launches his ambush, and chakra constructed snakes burst from all directions to drive their fangs into Shinki’s pale, painted flesh. Mitsuki bares his teeth in a grin as Shinki braces himself in a crouch and iron sand rushes to form a defensive barrier around Shinki. 

He stretches, burrows, reaches, and grabs Shinki’s ankles with the force of a snake’s death bite. Then, Mitsuki pulls, and watches as the iron sand collapses around Shinki’s newly buried form. Mitsuki wants to laugh. How obvious they are both being for the spectators. 

“You’re right,” Mitsuki confirms, as Shinki materializes behind him. “I felt no resistance.” Shinki’s iron sand clone was expressive and fake, as perfect as any lie can be. Mitsuki stretches his hand.

“You didn’t even take a step before now, yet you resorted to a clone,” Mitsuki states as he turns to face Shinki. “Did I at least surprise you, a little?” he asks. 

“Yes,” Shinki says. The answer is gratifyingly genuine. “But my father taught me never to let my guard down, especially in situations like this,” Shinki says. Mitsuki watches him gaze up at the stands, and presumably towards the Kazekage. Mitsuki is sure that if he attempted to take advantage of Shinki’s presumed distraction, that Shinki would still react before Mitsuki could immobilize him. Mitsuki will have to wait for a different opening. 

“He said his former rivals long ago were like this,” Shinki continues. Mitsuki compares it to Oro-a, and determines that Oro-a at least gave useful advice without the nostalgic emotional attachments. Although, Mitsuki has already come to identify that Shinki is heavily attached towards his image of his father. 

Mitsuki, personally, would rather form an identity separate from his progenitor. 

“What about you,” Shinki’s attention suddenly shifts, “Mitsuki.”

“Show me more of your strength!” Shinki demands. The rasp of scraping iron is obvious and agitated. Mitsuki shifts his weight forward and slows his breathing. Tricks won’t work anymore. 

Lightning streaks around Mitsuki’s form and towards Shinki with reaching fangs dripping sparks. Mitsuki waits, waits, bolts forwards. The electric snake sinks hissing fangs into Shinki’s iron coat, and the magnetic flow of the earth is disrupted. The coat drops with a gentle susurrus, and Mitsuki doesn’t bother with misdirection. He extends a knife hand towards Shinki’s bare throat and watches his wide eyes. The muscle in Shinki’s jaw is relaxed. 

The muscle in Shinki’s jaw is relaxed, and Mitsuki misses his strike. Mitsuki misses, and is overextended directly above Shinki’s shoulder, opposite his dominant arm. Mitsuki doesn’t need experience to see Shinki swing around and strike him in the back. The solid coating of iron that adds weight to Shinki’s swing and scrapes against Mitsuki’s clothes is a surprise but not devastating. 

Mitsuki allows his momentum to flip him through the air and pivots to land in a crouch facing Shinki. His shoulder blade and core muscles ache from the hit. Mitsuki relaxes his muscles and breathes through the quickly developing bruise. All of his limbs are still fully functional. Mitsuki narrows his eyes at Shinki and tries to calculate how far he is willing to take the battle. 

“Is this it?” Shinki asks. Mitsuki wonders if his expression was truly that transparent. “I know you have something more up your sleeve,” Shinki says. His face is challenging, and his jaw is tensing again. Mitsuki stills his own expression in response. Shinki doesn’t know any specifics or he would say them. 

“I understand where your complacency comes from,” Shinki says, “I will make you show me.” 

The iron spikes forms in the air, slowly condensing out of free-floating iron particles. It is beautiful in its potential; pure, dull colored iron metal. It is perfectly smooth and perfectly sharp and pointed directly towards Mitsuki. 

Shinki has only the barest of understanding of Mitsuki’s complacency, and Mitsuki wonders how he would verbalize it that he feels the threat of deadly harm is an efficient way to push Mitsuki into action. Mitsuki can imagine it so viscerally he can feel it. Shinki would push the iron towards Mitsuki as a deadly projectile, and the chakra that runs through the natural world itself would answer Mitsuki’s call. Mitsuki would see the individual particles of iron lovingly attached to one another with natural chakra, and the subtle wavelengths that Shinki is able to naturally manipulate them on. Mitsuki would be able to easily pivot around the projectile and dash across the ground and over Shinki’s domain like a great dragon from the old stories. 

Instead, Mitsuki remembers Oro-a’s words. 

The iron blasts towards Mitsuki with a raspy scream barely heard over the shouts of the crowd. Mitsuki straightens calmly and raises his hand. 

“I surrender,” he says. 

Shinki’s face relaxes in shock, and then everything about Shinki immediately tenses: his face, his muscles, his hand, and the iron stake hovering a breath from Mitsuki’s heart all tense in silent stillness.

“Did I hear you correctly,” Shinki asks. 

“You did,” Mitsuki says, “I just said, ‘I surrender’.” 

Mitsuki doesn’t bother with the snake’s smile that he might give to normal prey or when he is trying to mimic Boruto. Mitsuki just holds Shinki’s tense gaze with his own slanted eyes, and watches the shift of muscles like he would any dangerous predator. 

Rock Lee jumps into the arena incredulously. “What did you just say,” he asks, redundantly. Mitsuki is sure that Rock Lee must have heard him if he was willing to jump into the arena and interrupt the match. 

Still, Mitsuki answers, “I surrender.” Mitsuki gives Rock Lee a closed lip smile, to reassure him that Mitsuki is being genuine. 

Shinki stops Mitsuki before he can retreat into the contestant tunnels. The crowds roar in congratulations for Shinki, and Mitsuki can feel the slight vibrations of hundreds of enclosed bodies in the air. He tastes sweat and warm-blooded animals on his tongue. 

“Damn it, why?” Shinki demands. He speaks only just loud enough to be heard above the crowd.

Mitsuki turns and watches Shinki placidly. His body is still and tensed. The iron cloak that constantly hugs Shinki’s shoulder swirls in agitation, but the movement is inconsistent and not towards Mitsuki. Mitsuki gives Shinki a polite smile when he doesn’t relax. 

“If we had gone any further,” Mitsuki answers, “It would have inconvenienced my parent. I want to stay here longer.” Shinki is completely focused on Mitsuki. “Compared to that desire, I don’t really care about the outcome of this match,” Mitsuki explains. 

Shinki relaxes his muscles. “It seems I was completely wrong about you,” he says. Yet, Shinki turns away and bares his back towards Mitsuki. Shinki’s steps are relaxed and his head is held proud; Mitsuki appears to have been correct that Shinki would understand his motivations. 

 

That night, Mitsuki dreams of the arena. The ground is clean and smooth, empty of any signs of the battles that scarred the earth earlier today. 

Shinki falls asleep, and stands in a clean, blank arena. His iron sand swirls through the air to fill the entirety of the arena space, active in a way that Shinki’s chakra and iron particles only get during the middle of a battle. The stands are dark and blurred, and whenever Shinki focuses his attention on one area the dream resolves to show empty seats and a lack of sensation. His father is not watching in Shinki’s dream. 

Over the arena walls, Mitsuki can see the shyly peering mid-morning sun. Despite the clear light and Mitsuki’s knowledge of the empty arena space, his dream blurs the sky into a dark chiaroscuro. The arena stands are empty, and the competitor tunnels are dark and empty. Mitsuki opens his mouth and tastes only damp earth and the sharp tang of iron. The tunnels are empty of Mitsuki’s teammates. 

 

Then, Mitsuki lays sprawled on the dirt. 

Shinki looks across the arena, where his iron stands stiff in the smooth dirt floor and Mitsuki’s soft, squishy guts. He expects to see slowly bleeding red. 

Mitsuki watches the sky shift to reflected rust red. His stomach feels cold against the iron spike that holds him to the ground, but his cotton clothes stay pristine and pale. Mitsuki shifts his gaze downwards to look across the arena. 

Shinki stands there frozen, and grinds his teeth together in indecision. 

Mitsuki grabs the iron pole curiously. It feels both soft and rough. The iron sand grates against Mitsuki’s calloused fingers, but gives gently when Mitsuki attempts to grab it and pull. This is the most curious dream Mitsuki has ever had. 

Shinki steps forward hesitantly. “Don’t-” Shinki starts to say. He stops. It is a dream. It is the weirdest dream Shinki has ever had. 

Mitsuki looks up at Shinki. He forgot that Shinki was part of the dream. Mitsuki smiles with his lips, but keeps his eyes on Shinki’s outstretched form. “Will you help me?” Mitsuki asks. Mitsuki is always surprised by just how much he can get from a simple question. 

Shinki completes his halted step forward, but straightens his posture instead of moving to hover over Mitsuki. His eyes are enough hovering weight. 

“Yes,” Shinki says. 

The dream stays still for a moment, and the sun continues to peek rust red rays over the top of the arena walls. The sky is shaded by blended, dark grey clouds. 

Mitsuki holds his smile in Shinki’s direction, and the other boy, finally, reaches his arm forward. The iron sand scrapes upwards silently, but Mitsuki literally feels it in his gut.

It is a dream.

Mitsuki sits up into a cross-legged position and feels along the tattered hole in his clothes. His skin feels dry, fresh, and sensitive like after a new molt. Then MItsuki shifts his attention towards Shinki. This is unusual. Mitsuki presumed that Boruto was his sun, but Boruto seemed more concerned with Sarada and Naruto than Shinki even in the midst of the chunin tournament. Either Boruto hid a serious preoccupation with Mitsuki’s battle with Shinki, or Shinki is…

Shinki steps forward tentatively. Shinki steps forward boldly and sits catty corner to Mitsuki and exactly one yard away. From this distance, Shinki can see the ripped threads of Mitsuki’s clothes, but the bared skin that peeks out looks smooth and pale like the bleached skull of Shinki’s puppet. Shinki looks at Mitsuki as a person instead of an opponent. The arena is a gentle, indistinguishable blur at the edge of Shinki’s awareness, and the light of the sky is the red morning sun shining against low hanging clouds. 

Mitsuki’s skin is pale and papery, like the shed skin of a snake left to dry in the desert sun. Yet under his skin, Shinki sees long lines of muscle and the thin river lines of blue veins. His eyes stay focused on Shinki, and Shinki looks into the slanted golden light. They look like the edge of sunlight that presses against the window shades of the buildings in Suna.

Mitsuki smiles like the saw scale that teases Shinki’s dreams; with closed lips or gently bared fangs, and eyes that are laughing at something Shinki doesn’t know. 

“Do you dream of snakes often?” Mitsuki suddenly asks. 

Shinki tenses. “Almost all my dreams include a snake,” he says tentatively. Shinki can’t resist sharing his thoughts. He can’t resist sharing in the waking world, and Shinki can’t resist sharing in the weighty sanctuary of his dreams. “Though I don’t imagine you would know anything about that,” Shinki adds. 

“Hmm,” Mitsuki prevaricates. He turns his unblinking gaze away from Shinki and looks up at the frozen clouds that hang above them. “I don’t really care about that,” Mitsuki says. His shoulders tip in silent acknowledgement of the parallel from their last conversation. “I don’t dream of people, often,” Mitsuki clarifies. 

Mitsuki looks at Shinki out of the corner of his eye. A small white snake crawls from his sleeve to play with his fingers. Shinki stays sitting, straight-backed, in the same space as Mitsuki. The moment stretches to fill the night, and then the sun is in the middle of the sky, and it is morning, and they are waking up.

 

Mitsuki is waiting at the train station when Shinki and his family arrive their in preparation for their departure. Everyone tenses, and relaxes, and the air sounds with the gentle rustle of shifting particles. Mitsuki smiles with closed lips and closed eyes. Shinki wants to see the hint of fang that hides inside Mitsuki’s mouth. 

“Do you dream of snakes often?” Mitsuki asks. Shinki tenses, and then hides his smile in the billow of his shifting cloak. His teammates maintain their wary flanking positions. Father watches Mitsuki with a face as impassive as the desert dunes. Uncle Kankuro watches Mitsuki with expressively painted eyes, and smiles calculatingly. 

Shinki steps forward tentatively. Shinki steps forward boldly and signals for his family to stand down. Shinki keeps his figure relaxed as he moves within steps of Mitsuki and answers, “Almost always.”

Shinki keeps his voice even. He doesn’t need to say that Mitsuki seems to understand. Shinki doesn’t need to say the obvious. 

Mitsuki opens his mouth in a wide, thin-lipped grin, and Shinki watches the glint of light off smooth teeth. Then Mitsuki steps forward boldly, and holds out an arm with his palm up. A single, small white snake crawls up Mitsuki’s arm to hiss dubiously at Shinki. 

Shinki respectfully accepts the offer of communication. He thinks he understands. 

**Author's Note:**

> (I really want to come back and give this a sequel eventually, but it was been sitting in my WIPs for too long. Also, it has been killing me that no one else seems to ship MitShinki?!?)


End file.
